Zealot
by TheNewIdea
Summary: The Covenant warship, Truth and Reconciliation, has been rebuilt and taken over by the remnants of the old crew. Led by a nameless Zealot, the crew plots its revenge against humanity. John, Victor Prime, his AI, and a small group of marines have been sent to take them out. Takes place after the events of Halo 4. Rated T for violence, language, pop culture refs. and character death.
1. Chapter 1

It was difficult to breathe, the air around him was thin, constricting, and forcing his lungs to fight in shallow and futile breathes. It was sad to think about in all honesty, that someone who had fought so hard and for so long would die in such a way, a way so simple, so safe in comparison to everything else that it was almost cruel.

Standing in a malfunctioning open cryogenic freezing chamber aboard a newly reconstructed _Truth and Reconciliation_, John tried to move to the best of his ability. These efforts were pointless, for he was securely restrained by handcuffs, they were made out of the same material used to create force fields and for better or worse impenetrable if constantly charged, which these were.

"Prime" John exclaimed weakly, talking to his AI, "Deactivate the handcuffs."

Victor Prime, John's AI, which appeared as a small blue orb in front of John when called, only floated aimlessly in response, doing absolutely nothing to improve the situation.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that John" Prime answered, "They will be here any minute. Laskey warned you about this mission from the beginning. He knew what was going to happen and still you didn't listen. Now look where you are, trapped in a freezing chamber and surrounded by no one. Why is that I wonder?"

John scowled annoyingly, resisting the urge to cough up blood, "Because everyone is dead" he replied, "Because I did the right thing, instead of the smart thing."

Prime laughed pitifully, for that was the answer that only a delusional person would give.

"So it was right to send them to their deaths?" Prime asked rhetorically, "Is your life really that important? Are you so far removed from humanity that you do not see the value in other people's lives?"

Chief rolled his eyes, "That's not what I meant Victor, you know that. But still, if their deaths meant the success of the mission then it was something I had to risk."

Prime laughed again, this time more heartedly, "I'd hardly call getting yourself mortally wounded and captured a success. Unless the definition of success and complete and utter failure have switched I see little reason for celebration!"

John coughed up a large amount of blood, further staining the inside of his helmet and adding on to the previous times that he had coughed up blood, mucus and other bodily functions as a result of his injuries. John winced in pain; he was barely able to stay awake. Prime, recognizing this, decided to keep talking, doing everything that he was willing to do to keep John alive.

"So what was the Arbiter like?" Prime asked curiously, "I bet he was an interesting character wouldn't you say? Whatever happened to him I wonder?"

John shook his head indifferently, "If he's smart he got out of the military" he exclaimed, "Went back to his family like he said he was going to do. Start his life up again. Few should be so lucky."

Prime gave the equivalent of a nod, in a strange way he couldn't help but agree. Few were ever so lucky, most either died for their country or continued fighting until there was nothing left to fight. In John's case, Prime assumed that he would be the latter sort, if he survived here that is.

"It's the funniest thing" Prime continued, "And I thought Spartans never died. If that's true where do they go?"

John laughed as if Prime should've known the answer, in truth he did, it was just another tactic to keep John awake.

"They live on in the others" John explained, "They live on in me and those who call themselves Spartans. Who have taken the oath, gone through the necessary training and live by the example that we set for the common soldier."

"So it's some form of reincarnation then?" Prime said, still playing the dumb card.

John said nothing; he was too busy coughing a lung, almost in the literal sense, to reply.

The door to the small holding room opened, in stepped in a small Grunt. He was dragging the body of James Romero, the last marine to die in the face of the enemy aboard the ship. The only thing John knew about him was that he was a Latino American from California who had enlisted in the UNSC to fight against the insurrectionists, only to be reassigned to the war effort after the fall of Reach. The Grunt, disrespectfully, dropped Romero's body in the corner of the room, after which he gave it a once over, looting for any valuables that might of be use. When this was done, the Grunt turned towards John and then towards Prime, before making his way out of the room saying nothing.

"What was that all about?" John asked, completely confused as to what was going on as his headache that he been suffering from the past hour, grew to migraine proportions.

"Scare tactic I suspect" Prime answered, "Who knows really."

The Grunt reappeared; he was followed by an Elite Zealot carrying an energy sword. The Zealot stepped forward and examined John from a distance.

"What is your name?" The Zealot began

John remained silent, nevertheless the Zealot continued as if nothing happened.

"What is your quest?"

Still nothing, the Zealot, in an effort to get John to warm up, playing on the niceties for the time being, continued with the obvious joke from a long dead, recently revived movie.

"What is your favorite color?"

"Green" John answered

"Wrong!" the Zealot replied with a laugh, "its black. Like your heart, cold, black and unfeeling. You would rather let this marine die than to simply fall back and let the mission fail. Now look at you. You're trapped and slowly dying from disease and wounds. You're pushing what, 50? 60? Maybe 70? Why are you still fighting a war that you obviously lost?"

"Because he's mentally retarded" Prime answered promptly

John huffed, "Some AI you turned to be" he said grumbling to himself, "I'm perfectly fine thank you very much."

"Said the dying senile old man?" Prime continued sarcastically, "Oh yes you're perfectly fine, the pinnacle of health."

John scowled, "You're wrong about me Prime" he exclaimed, "Both of you are. I may be old, but I can still fight."

Prime groaned, "Sir I'm telling you it is pointless! Roll over and die, for your own sake if nothing else. Give up! The mission is over, we've lost and they've won. It's as simple as that."

John turned towards Prime coldly, "Whatever happened to being loyal?" John asked rhetorically, "Loyal to me, to the UNSC? To Cortana! All those oaths you made, the promises...did they mean anything to you?"

Prime said nothing, allowing John to continue, which he did without hesitation.

"And don't you dare say that I am a monster. I cared for every single team member I had, I'm carrying their tags with me as we speak."

Prime huffed, "And if their safety compromises the mission? What then? Admit it Chief, you would let them die. You did let them die, you're nothing but a coward."

John hung his head, letting out a sigh as a result, "You're right Victor" John continued, "I am a coward. Today of all days even..."

John faced the Zealot and nodded slightly, giving the all clear to him to strike. The Zealot, instead of taking him up on the offer, reached for John's helmet and carefully removed it.

"If anything" the Zealot replied, "You deserve an honorable death. You and your men fought bravely, albeit irrationally and stupidly, but bravely nonetheless."

John smiled as he coughed up more blood; he slowly closed his eyes and patiently waited for death. The Zealot, to ease John of his pain, decapitated him with all the swiftness in the world, the energy sword sticking to the back of the freezing chamber as John's head separated from his body.

"Gather the dead Pestilence" the Zealot commanded, "Leave the Demon for last."

Pestilence, the Grunt, nodded obediently and slowly walked outside, disgruntled at his task, for he would have much preferred guard detail then body cleanup, but still, he knew better than to go against the orders of the Zealot.

"At least he believed he died well" Prime exclaimed suddenly

The Zealot nodded, "So he did" he replied as he picked up John's helmet and removed Prime's external chip, releasing him from John's control.

"And pray tell what are you going to do with me?" Prime pried, curiosity taking over reason for the time being.

The Zealot answered him by placing him in the back of his own helmet, the external chip drive being the one thing that the humans and the Covenant shared in terms of armor.

"I see" Prime said, "I shall do my best to serve you sir. What do I call you?"

The Zealot said nothing and simply walked out of the room, forcing Prime to follow him regardless, leaving John's body as it lied as Pestilence continued to drag bodies into the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Six Hours Earlier

John, James Romero and eight others made their way to the hangar bay where they were to board a Pelican that was to take them to the surface of the Installation. They were accompanied by CO Thomas Laskey of the UNSC _Infinity,_ the last of the sister ships that consisted of the _Pillar of Autumn_ and the _Forward unto Dawn_ to survive the Human-Covenant War.

"Are you sure you're up for this Chief" Laskey said worriedly, "Don't you think you should sit this out? Let Romero take this one?"

John huffed, clearly insulted, "I'd rather die Commander" he stated, "Besides, you know it just as well as I do that they won't survive without me."

Romero glared in John's direction; he failed to see why John would be of any help. Besides it wasn't like they hadn't faced Covenant before.

"Just because you're a Spartan doesn't make you God" Romero declared, "We are more than capable of handling this one ourselves Chief. You really should listen to the Commander and sit this one out, you've done enough."

Laskey nodded in agreement and turned back to John, who was barely listening at this point.

"Chief I know what you're feeling. You're upset, I get that, but that's no reason to go charging into battle again. Your part in this war is over sir. Go home."

"This is all I know Laskey" John exclaimed, "The war never ends. Not for me. It's all one big war until the very end."

Laskey sighed pitifully, "You're not a machine Chief. Stop acting like it."

John snapped at this, the mere mentioning of that phrase causing him to grab Laskey's shoulder and slam him into the nearest wall, Romero and the others in response trained their weapons on him, their fingers on the trigger in anticipation.

"Don't you ever say that to me!" John said, his voice hoarse from pent up aggression, "You understand that? Do you know what it's like Commander? To go through hell with someone, to be with them through everything only to have them die with barely any explanation?"

Laskey nodded, struggling as John put more pressure on his shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

"I'm not going to pretend that I know what you're going through Chief" Laskey answered, "But I will say this, Cortana did what she did because she loved you."

John growled at this, for Cortana was the last thing that he wanted to think about.

"It was war Thomas" John replied, "We fought to survive, to complete the mission, that was all. It was war. And war does crazy things to crazy people, makes them believe things that they never would have believed otherwise. It makes them blind to themselves, they let their guard down, spill out their emotions and they end up dead, too distracted by their own hearts to see the barrel of a gun, to hear the footsteps of the enemy. It wasn't love Thomas, and if it was it got her killed."

Thomas laughed pitifully in complete disbelief that John would be so blind to his own feelings and even more surprised that he would judge Cortana, who had given her life up for him, in such a way that it made her the fool.

"It wasn't love that killed her Chief" Laskey continued, "It was just her time. If anything love saved her, it saved you."

Romero cautiously approached Chief, gently touching the mussel of his gun at the back of John's neck.

"Put him down Chief" Romero ordered, his voice calm and collected, "Put him down before you join her."

John remained motionless, in a way almost wishing that Romero would follow through, for he gladly wished for death in whatever form it took.

"Stand down soldier" Laskey replied as he lifted his hands up towards the ceiling, "We're all friends here. Chief-"

John was too lost inside himself to answer, prompting Laskey to call his name again.

"Yes Commander?" John asked, for the moment oblivious as to what he was doing, without even so much as thinking John continued to apply pressure to Laskey's shoulder, ultimately doing nothing but repositioning Laskey on the wall.

"How'd you get your name, Master Chief? Pretty ambiguous if you ask me."

John shrugged and shook his head, searching his memory for answers that were no longer there. The only people who knew that story were Cortana, Arbiter and Halsey, the former two being the only ones that John had left in the entire universe.

"Until you bleed with me" John answered, "You don't get that luxury. All you need to know is that I am the Master Chief, I was created as part of the SPARTAN project, I fought the insurrectionists until I was recalled to Reach for reassignment. The rest is ancient history. You're a bookworm Thomas, why don't you read my file yourself? I shouldn't have to explain myself to you."

Laskey nodded, he hoped that the answer to his question would be simple and would also be enough to get John to release him, being wrong on both accounts Laskey switched tactics.

"Romero" Laskey exclaimed, "Arrest him."

Romero closed his eyes and sighed, personally hating himself for what he was about to do. Rising his rifle Romero struck John as hard as he could, hoping that the blow wouldn't be enough to kill him. As John waited to be incapacitated he thought about all the times that he was wrong on a lot of things. If he had a list, it would easily be a mile long.

When John was on the ground, Laskey pulled himself away from the wall and brushed himself off. He casually turned to Romero's underling, Corporal Milton Anderson.

"Take him to the Infirmary Ward" Laskey commanded, "He's not well. Hook him with Victor Prime; see how he takes to him."

Anderson nodded in understanding and motioned for his brother, Bill, another corporal, and a third, who wasn't really important, to assist in the carrying, for John easily weighed 250 pounds without the armor and so would be heavier than usual.

"Don't let him touch the ground again boys" Anderson declared enthusiastically, "Hop to it, double time, we've got a hero to deliver!"

Romero and Laskey laughed to themselves, amused by Anderson's eagerness to please and be the happiest guy in the room.

"Eccentric one isn't he?" Laskey said rhetorically

Romero nodded in agreement, "Yes he is sir, but he's a good soldier. He listens instead of talks."

Laskey huffed, "A quality that Chief could definitely use. Too much brute strength, not enough head."

"Sir" Romero continued, "With the Chief indisposed, do you believe that we will succeed?"

Laskey gave no answer; instead he turned around and made his way to the command deck, leaving Romero to answer his own question. With no clear set of orders, the six who remained decided to return to the barracks to get what rest they could in preparation for what was to come.


End file.
